The Spanish View of the American
by chanchi76
Summary: After the attack on Hawaii, America is forced to deal with the World War in his backyard. California is proving to be less than pleased with his decision to keep her in the country. She visits Spain to try to get his opinion on the matter of war.
1. Chapter 1

"I want to fight."

The woman stood on his right; he could see her out the corner of his eye. She had a masculine posture, her feet spread shoulder-width apart, her arms folded behind her, chest thrown forward, and her head raised high. Her long brown hair was untied and flowing freely down her shoulders.

The only thing out of place for her image was her clothing. She was wearing a light blue dress and boots. He excused the boots, for he suspected they had been used during the trek to his home in the snow outside, all of other her winter wraps must have been removed by one of his servants on her way in. But that still gave no explanation for her dress.

If another woman of stronger conviction had said to him the same thing she had said, he would have expected her to be clothed in men's clothes. Such was the norm for a woman fighting for her equal rights.

"I want to stand with you when you face Japan," she looked down at him coldly; her green eyes had lost their usual happiness and were now filled with the desire to have her wish granted.

"Why would you want that?" he turned his head to face her. It was unusual for her to march into his study and demand to leave the country. The stern look on her face made him think twice about acting playful around her.

"Hawaii was hurt. She's one of the West Pacific States, just like me. I was there, but wasn't able to do anything. I feel responsible for her injury," she said all this quickly, like she memorized it or had to repeat it to others before him.

"You don't have to worry about fighting. Your brothers can take care of everything with me overseas. I need you to stay home and look over the people by my boss's side," he sighed, propping his head up with his elbow on the desk. His work had to be put aside for a while, due to her sudden, unplanned appearance.

"I want to fight _alongside_ with you," she shook her head, as if he didn't understand her first demand. "I want to fight _with_ my brothers. Have someone else look after the people."

"Cali," he stood up slowly, shaking his head the entire time. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes looking into her green ones. He was a bit taken aback by the spark of determination in her eyes and blinked steadily, struggling to think of something appropriate to say.

"I do care about the people, but many of my people are enlisting. They want to fight. It is my duty as a state to follow them into war. I cannot stay back when my people are the ones calling for war."

"You are not the first to ask that request," she looked startled by this comment. He smiled at her gently and put his arm on her back, turning her around so she walked with him to the window. "I have already spoken to your brothers, Arizona, Montana, Ohio, and Washington. Your sister Colorado was even over here asking the same thing. Imagine, Colorado asking to join the military!" He laughed but stopped when he realized she wasn't joining in.

"What was your answer to them?" her expression was still solid as stone. He sighed again and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Of course I said no to Arizona and Colorado. Arizona's a bit too young to even take control of his own battleship. And you know Colorado. She still loves that peace and quiet she gets in her mountains. I let the other three join, though I'm making Ohio wait for the second wave."

"I'm older than Montana and Washington!" she burst out, turning to him in exasperation. "You let them go but stop me?"

"I'm not stopping you because of age restrictions."

"Then what?" she demanded, her voice echoing around the room loudly. He could tell it was taking her quite a bit of self-control not to stamp a hole into his wooden floor.

"You're a woman, why don't you become a nurse instead? That way you'll be with us on the field—" she shook her head quickly and angrily.

"I don't want to be a nurse!" she snapped. "You _know_ how many wars I was in! I was only a child when I helped Mexico gain independence from Spain! Texas and Ipersonally fought against Mexico and _won_. The Civil War? You know what I did there! Even the World War, when I wasn't in complete agreement with it! I fought! You _let_ me!"

"You barely fought in the Civil War. The only time you fought alongside me was when we took the Mississippi from the Confederacy and stopped Texas. And the World War was because of disagreements between the states. You had and still have the largest military, if you hadn't sent your troops then—"

"We might not have won?" she narrowed her eyes. "The war was ending before we even joined. When we did, it escalated again before it ended. And even that wasn't a complete end. It was only a minor ceasefire. Now look at the mess it caused us. We have a depression! Japan just _bombed_ us—look at Hawaii now!"

"There is nothing I can say to you except 'no', you cannot go into war," he shook his head. He watched as the state threw up her arms, disappointment and annoyance flushing across her face.

"Aren't I your right hand?" she demanded.

"Of course—"

"Then I have a right to go with you in case you fall during battle."

"Cali, I trust you completely. Yes, you _are_ my right hand. But you are also my replacement. If something happens to me, I want you to take over. If I go out into battle, Japan will go to me first, and if I'm defeated—as unlikely as that seems—Japan will think America is finished. But it won't be, because I have you to act in my place. _You_ are the second America. Not Texas or Alaska, though I don't know why Alaska would have a claim on it either."

"I still want to fight. Japan sank _my_ battleship. Arizona's went too, so did Utah and Oakie's."

"And if I remember, the Admiral came and told me your ship was being repaired two days ago."

She frowned, but didn't push the topic any further. Instead, she turned heel and marched out of the room, no doubt looking for another state to complain to.

America settled back into his chair and shook his head, already knowing that it wouldn't be the end of her argument. He believed women shouldn't be allowed into war—no offense to Hungary—they tended to be physically and emotionally weaker than the men—without pointing any faults to England either. But they were helping with his personal morale. After the attack, he felt his people surging together, men, women, and children alike.

They gave him enough strength to march over and meet England in his northern state (though he didn't remember a state being called 'Canada' at all) and join him in the war effort against the Axis Powers.

England was short-staffed. He was practically fighting the war alone, in Europe _and_ Africa—and starting to weaken. France—his long-time enemy and ally—had his own country taken over by Germany's forces. He was still questioning his pact with Russia, who was fighting off Germany in the east seemingly alone (though China was aiding him occasionally when Japan wasn't involved).

America was a welcoming headache to the stiff Englishman. He had made plans to send half of the fighting states to Europe and the rest (including himself, of course) to Africa and finish off whatever Italy had left. Germany would run out to save Italy and that would be the end—they would have the two captured and the only thing left to do was take down Japan.

He didn't really need the pretty Californian to worry her head. Yes, she was used to rough housing, having lived with Texas and Mexico most of her life. And the rest of the Western States weren't an easy picnic either. She cared for most of them, including Hawaii.

But she was a woman, and men were not supposed to use women to fight the wars they caused. It was morally incorrect in his way of thinking.

And there was a possibility she was going to be overemotional soon. He knew his boss was planning to send out another executive order, this one aimed at Japan's (former) people—people on her coast.

He knew she liked the people from the East, and he couldn't see why he wouldn't either. They were all hardworking. They took any job,—even the worst ones—never complained about the poor treatment, and were generally all peaceful, having no quarrel with anybody. Such was their nature, but his boss was not taking any chances.

And when she heard this order, she would come marching right back to him, shouting about equal rights and citizenship. It wasn't the time for him to listen to his rebellious state. Japan's attack had crippled another state and he was still feeling the ache from losing all of those people. They were _neutral_ yet they still got attacked.

How many states did he have active as of this moment?

It took him a few moments to count. Hawaii was completely out of commission, she wasn't going to fight anytime soon. She was hurt too. She came to him, tears spilling down her face, begging him to keep the naval base and the airfield base where it was. Of course, he had no intention of moving it—it was perfectly situated where it was. Japan would not try to attack him again on the same base.

Then there was every state that had a battleship moored in his 'Battleship Row'. Cali, Ari, West Ginny, Oakie, Mary, T-see (or "Tenn" as everyone called him), and Nevada. Even Utah and Penny were hit, though they weren't even in clear sight.

The states were only following their ship when it docked. They received orders when it would come in, and they were all with Hawaii when it happened.

The attack left everything in shambles. Ari wouldn't wake up for a full week due to the extent of his injuries, and he wasn't even on the ship when it happened. The rest of the states wandered up and down the docks for their people's bodies. Only they were able to recognize who went where.

It was heartbreaking when he and Texas came to meet them—four hours too late. There were no tears (except Hawaii), only shock as they picked themselves up.

Utah was forever crippled on his side, and Oakie would never fully regain use of his arm. Ari had been injured in both eyes, but the doctors were only able to save one—he would be completely blind in the other.

Though he admitted, the states would have had more severe damage if they were attacked on their land, but seeing them like this was enough. The rest of the states came to pay their respects, even Alaska from the North (whoever that was). Even he was only able to see the states that were only slightly injured, the critically wounded were located in a separate facility. His people took care in making sure his states survived the ordeal.

And this entire crisis had Japan's name written all over it in blood. Just making one of his people a prisoner was not enough. That man was prepared to die when he entered his plane—no, when he stepped onto the carrier. A prisoner was practically useless if they were ready for the pain and death that followed their actions.

Japan was going to _pay_ for this mess.

California was not the only state that was going to try to fight against his orders. She was just more bullheaded than the rest, quoting Tex. He and his boss insisted on _no_ women fighting. They were allowed to join the smaller ranks of human women in the air force or even in the army nurses, but not allowed to fight as soldiers. This was the first time they were being so liberal on women, they could even have _jobs_ in the factories when the men left for war.

He pulled out another piece of paper and prepared to write a pleading letter to the state before she left to visit Spain (despite the fact he was allied with the Axis Powers, he still allowed her to come and go as she pleased, as long as she had no army behind her).

In it, he was writing her duty to him and her people. She was one of his important Sunbelt states. The states with the most sun all year-round. As of now, her increased production and industry was the most important thing on his agenda. If he lost it, there was a sure chance of him losing against the Axis Powers. Maybe not Germany, but definitely Japan.

Perhaps she would listen to that. But as he sealed it and called in the butler to have someone deliver the letter, he wondered how she was getting the money to make the trip overseas to Spain in the first place.

He had a nasty feeling that she was only making Spain a side stop. He stood up quickly and strode out of the room as well, tossing the letter at the butler as he brushed by. He was going to have to move a lot quicker if he wanted to stop her from taking one foot on that boat.

* * *

**I drew my version of the states. So far, only California, Texas, Alaska, New Mexico, and Arizona have been drawn as of this moment. I have a smal drawing of Utah and Colorado, but that's not quite ready yet. They're both placed on deviantart under chanchi76 the same username I'm using on FFnet. **


	2. Chapter 2

"An' where do ya think yer goin', Cali?"

The question stopped the young woman in her tracks. She turned to her brother, who was relaxing at the kitchen table, his feet thrown up on the table and a hat covering his face. She thought he had been asleep, which was the perfect time for her to sneak out of their hotel room.

"Why do you think America won't let me fight?" she asked, ignoring his question and striding over to him. Her brother slowly pulled his hat off his face and looked at her, a frown deepening on his face.

"Maybe 'cause yer a girl?" he shrugged. "They say in the Army ya can't rise up in ranks if yer a woman."

"You know that's not fair," she scowled and started pacing in front of him, her hands on her hips. "Why can't you just go to America and demand—"

"'Cause he ain't gonna listen," he took his boots off the table and looked at her sternly. "What makes ya think he'll listen ta me? He likes ya more."

"Because you're going!" she stamped her foot. "You get to fight!"

"Trus' me, Cali. It ain't all that glorifyin' as it sounds. If ya listen ta the radio a bit—"

"I know, I'll hear about England's people and how Germany is just sweeping Europe and the rest of the world. And about how Japan invaded China. I know. I _know_."

"Sounds like chaos an' death o'er there," Texas mumbled, placing his hat over his face again. "Why don'cha stay here and rest fer a bit? Goin' ta 'merica again won' help ya none. If ya really want ta go, then ask him tomorrow."

California stood by his side and waited until she was sure she could hear her brother's soft snoring before turning heel and heading back to the door.

She had a boat to catch.

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

"Miss. Jones, I'm afraid your normal attire won't do on the ship," the captain eyed the state's light blue dress and snow boots as he followed her around the deck after the ship had left the docks behind.

"Don't worry, Captain," she stopped and glanced back at him. "I've made preparations for this trip."

"This will be a long journey too, Miss. Jones," he was nervous. He had heard of these beings called "nations". Though humanlike in appearance and personality, they were far from it. Many had lived for centuries—seen thousands of their people die, and watch their bosses' rise up to power and then lose it all. Their personality and strengths relied solely in the power of the people.

Of all of America's states and territories, California was one of the greatest. Rising up from poverty as a Mexican state, she was now considered America's replacement if something bad happened.

As the second-largest state in the Union, she was taller than any other state, save for her older brother, Texas, and her younger sister-but-not-yet-a-state, Alaska. She wielded frightening power, rumored to equal Spain's during the time he ruled the seas with his all-powerful Armada.

High-ranked officials, including the president's own cabinet, were frightened of angering her. She was decidedly short-tempered after the attack. He shuddered as he remembered hearing the news and thanked the Heavens for having him stationed in a port in Texas at the time.

The Admiral himself had knocked on his cabin door very early in the morning, before the sun had even risen. He hurriedly told him the details of the state's unannounced visit.

He didn't order the captain to be on time and prompt for her visit.

He _begged_ and _pleaded_ for him to be on time and prompt for her visit.

Obviously there was a great fear of offending the mighty western state.

"She's in charge of this country's Navy, Captain," he reminded him while he was rushing around grabbing his things. "With just a nod of her head, she could unseat both of us. Her older brother runs the Army and her younger sister runs the Air Force. I heard her brother took down one of the generals last week. These people are frightening, Captain."

"Yes sir. I know, Sir. Do you know where she wants to go?" he asked, seizing his cap before opening the door and ushering the Admiral out.

"You will refer to this "she" directly as Miss. Jones. She may request otherwise later but until then, address her as such. Her destination is Spain, one of the ports on the northern border. She asked for the port closest to the British Isles."

"Sir, that part is closely watched by the Germans after they took Paris."

"Don't you think she knows that?" he snapped.

"Oh, right. Head of the Navy," the captain muttered.

"Just remember, Captain. Good treatment, get her where she wants to go—no delays. The faster you get her to the port in Spain, the faster you can return before the Germans find you."

He sighed inwardly as he continued to follow her around the ship. She seemed very familiar with boats at sea. There was no problem with her walking as she gracefully changed from her land-legs to sea-legs.

"Captain," she stopped and turned to face him. "Out on open sea, I am only an officer under your command. Please do not use my formal name unless we're in private."

"Of course Miss. Jones," he nodded quickly.

"And I would like a room to change in," she looked at her land attire with distaste. "These clothes do not benefit someone out at sea."

"Of course, Miss. Jones. I will lend you my quarters," he waved her on farther down the hall. "It should be unlocked. When you are ready, please meet me above." Watching the state's retreating back, he let out a long sigh of relief.

It seemed he had survived the first five minutes with her onboard.

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

"What do you _mean_, she's gone?"

"Ah swear, she was here! Her stuff is still here an' everythin'!" Texas shook his head in exasperation. "She came back complainin' 'bout not goin' ta war! She didn' mention plans either!"

"She might be going to visit Spain!" America yelled, panic edging into his voice. "I was hoping it was going to be Mexico!"

"What's wrong with Spain?" Texas crossed his arms and leaned against the sink, his own panic starting to fade away. It didn't seem like such a big deal now that America had explained his reasons for barging into his room and waking him from his nap.

"Spain is allied with Germany! _Germany_! My boss declared _war_ on Germany! She might try to enter the war enlisting as one of England's soldiers! Only Germany would know who she is!"

"Hold yer horses there, Pa!" Texas raised his hand, having to shout to make America listen. "England won' accept her, his military don't take women in ta combat."

"Oh God! I have to call England!" He dashed out, leaving Texas standing there stuttering.

"But—wait—she can't—America!"

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

"England! Things are bad! But don't worry, I'm still the Hero! I can solve these things, but I need a _little _favor from you!" England frowned when he heard America's cheery, yet panicked voice on his phone. His former colony was not making any sense whatsoever. Things were bad, yet he was still cheerful?

"America! How many times do I have to tell you?" he didn't feel like repeating, "slow down" another five times. The loud country was never going to listen.

"—gone to Spain. Germany will attack—"

"Germany and I are in Africa!" England shrieked. "He can't get back to Europe that quickly! Just get your arse over here, America! Bring all your damn Yankees!"

"Cali's gone! She got taken by Germany!"

"Oh dear _lord_," he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling of his tent. He was here in Africa kicking Italy around with Germany hot on his heels and America was hell-bent on finding a stuffed animal of his?

"England!" the annoying country was calling his name again. He could only sigh and shift the phone a bit farther away from his ear so he could understand the American a tad bit better.

"What is _it_, America?" he demanded. "I would like to return to my troops. If you want to tell me something—"

"She hasn't left me before! I don't know what's wrong! I mean, she did come to me asking to fight, and I did say no…but I didn't think she'd act so quickly and I was so busy…"

"Stop." He ordered, and surprisingly enough, the noisy country shut up. "Who is 'Cali'?"

"My state! I'm now the 47 states of America! 47*! It's all Germany's fault!"

* * *

* Around WWII, America had only 48 states, with Arizona the latest one (1912). Alaska and Hawaii were part of US, but they were only territories back then. They both joined America in 1959.

* * *

"Germany _invaded_?" England could not see the Kraut invading America. For one thing, he was _quite_ sure Germany didn't want to risk a war him anyway.

Then it clicked. America had said something about "visiting Spain". If he had his history correct, California was one of the states Spain had given to Mexico. The stupid state must have tried to brave the German submarines and ships to reach Spain. She must have been caught by either Germany or Prussia.

"Oh no. _That_ did not happen. America—"

"Texas says Prussia's one the phone!" the line went dead before England could finish his sentence. He stared at the black device in his hand, the dial tone ringing in an endless loop. Didn't America declare war against Germany? So the only reason Germany would call America personally…

He gulped and grabbed his jacket off his chair.

The only reason Germany would _ever _call America during war was to demand ransom. And the damn Yankee would more than likely accept his terms, regardless of whether or not they were in his favor.

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

"Romano!" The Italian gave a snort and rolled over on the couch. There was this annoying voice that sounded _just_ like the tomato-bastard right next to his ear.

"Romano!" This time, the person the voice belonged to was shaking him _and_ yelling into his ear. He didn't even feel like opening his eyes and seeing if it was time for him to wake up yet.

"Romano!" the person gave a mighty heave and rolled him off the couch. The Italian hit the ground hard and opened his eyes.

"DAMN YOU TOMATO-BASTARD!" his hollers didn't cause the other country to back off.

"Romano! Romano! Look! Look!" the overexcited Spaniard was waving what appeared to be a letter in front of his face.

"I don't care!" he struggled up onto the couch once more, sprawling out so his head hit the cushion and his feet touched the other end of the couch.

"But Romano! Isn't it interesting? Your little sister's coming to visit!" This comment caused him to spit out that imaginary drink in his mouth and yank himself up, his head colliding with the paper Spain was holding.

"What sister?" he demanded. "I only have stupid Feliciano!"

"Don't talk about Ita-chan like that," the ex-conquistador whined, momentarily losing that excited tone he had woken with. "I was talking about your sister—America's state."

Once more, Romano was spitting out that nonexistent drink.

"That woman!?" he shrieked. "You bring her over here and she'll take my country!"

"Aw Romano!" Spain cooed, playfully pulling on his curl, causing him to turn an amazing shade of red. "She won't hurt you. She's just coming over for a customary visit. I hear Japan attacked her recently, she's probably not in any mood to attack you."

"I'm going home," he grumbled, brushing his curl out of Spain's grasp. "I'm not going to be here when that woman is."

"But Romano! She sent the letter a week ago! One of America's planes flew it here first before heading to England! I sent a reply when another plane came that night. She should be here within an hour."

"WHAT?! You stupid TOMATO-BASTARD! Why didn't you tell me SOONER?"

"I was so busy counting the tomato plants that I didn't notice that time went by."

"It took you a WEEK to count TWENTY vines?!"

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

"Ve~Ve~, Germany!" Italy called when he walked in through the front door.

"ITALY!" the menacing blonde shouted. "HOW DID YOU GET IN?"

"The door was open!" he pointed at the broken knob on the ground. "But Germany! Germany! Guess what?"

"What is it?" he grumbled, wandering over to the door and reminding himself to call the locksmith once Italy left.

"I went by Spain ni-chan's house to see Romano, but they were _really_ noisy! They were shouting about tomatoes, America's planes, and, and~"

"America is on the move," Germany pulled out his handy-dandy notebook and started scribbling down notes. "And he might try dropping tomatoes in France."


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for the long delay. Happy Holidays from me :D.**

* * *

"Lieutenant!"

"Yes Captain?" the state immediately straightened up and saluted him.

"Follow me," he turned around and went down the stairs to the bottom levels of the ship.

"Yes sir," she nodded to the other sailors working with her. "Carry on men."

"Here," he motioned to his private quarters.

"What do you need my assistance with, Captain?" she asked, her stance tall and erect. It was the same position she had been standing in when she spoke out against America. He suddenly felt small, for she towered over him a good inch or two.

"I'm afraid we have to drop formalities so quickly, Miss. Jones. But please be at ease in here. I don't want to have any more confusion in this chaos."

The state was pulling a rather interesting face when he said this. Her bottom lip curled and jutted out, her displeasure evidently noticeable. He couldn't tell whether it was him calling her by her real name so quickly into the trip, or the 'chaos' he mentioned.

"What is wrong, captain?" she asked, not bothering to relax her stance one bit. He gestured at the map lying down on the table at the far end of the cabin.

"I've been informed of Germany activities around these waters. Submarines, battleships, aircraft carriers—the whole lot." He looked up when she didn't respond and wasn't surprised to see her teeth biting into her lower lip, a fierce look in her eyes.

"Isn't this just a normal ship—a transporter?" she asked finally, he watched with unease as she continued to bite her lip. So far, no blood had left her mouth.

"Yes, except the entire original crew was replaced with Navy officers to provide the best possible defense in case this happened overseas."

"And you're trained in this sort of encounter?" she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"No, ma'am," he wilted under her gaze. "Not so much. This ship doesn't offer us the usual arsenal of weapons we use."

"Remind me when we return to port to tell the Admiral about this…situation," she scowled and turned away from him, walking over until she was looking at another large map attached to the wall. "There are no sorts of weaponry aboard?"

"A few firearms here and there, Miss. Jones. But our skills are in naval warfare," he shrugged helplessly. "It would do us better to have the Marines or the Army with us."

"Or the Air Force," she grumbled, remembering the pilots often carried around pistols. "Anybody really."

"F-forgive us for being so unprepared, Miss. Jones," the Captain apologized, stuttering slightly.

"It's not really a problem. I was unprepared as well," she shrugged. "But now, we need to figure out what we're going to do."

"We should warn other American ships nearby. And maybe send a message back to the port."

"Go and do that," she ordered, not looking up when he stood there questionably.

"Miss. Jones, on what authorization am I going to use? The men won't listen to me without proper authorization."

"Use my influence!" she snapped. "Get me a piece of paper!" He handed her a small square of paper from his desk. With a quick motion, she drew her seal. He watched this with surprise; she could recall every detail on the complicated circle and duplicated it as easily as she scrawled her name below it.

"Now take this and go!" she shoved it at him, her hand colliding with his chest and knocking the wind out of him. "And come back here when you're done!"

* * *

"Oh God, she really is gone!" America wailed facedown on his dining room table. Across from him, both England and Texas exchanged awkward looks before England reached over and patted him gingerly.

"Ah'm sure she's all right," Texas shrugged, though his nonchalant words didn't match his current mood. "She's always jokin' around."

The American looked up and him, his weepy eyes cast downward, giving him the strange, watery effect of a depressed dog.

"Well, maybe she ain't playin' righ' now," he suddenly looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat, trying to gaze at something other than the whining country. "Course I ain't sayin' she'd just let em' take her away without no fight. She's the las' one to let a German lay a hand on her."

"But she's _gone_! Germany called and wanted to know how many kegs she was worth!"

"But Germany doesn't fight like that!" England stammered. "Are you absolutely sure it was the Kraut?" America nodded slowly and he slunk back into his chair, shock registering all over his face.

"Mr. Jones, sir!" a loud, tall man in army attire marched into the room. He saluted both countries and the state at the table. A folded sheet of paper was clenched in his fist.

"What is it, General?" Texas asked, standing up, not bothering to salute back.

"There is an urgent message with Miss. Jones's authorization!" he shouted. "She requests all American ships to be armed, and for all of our ships located in the open Atlantic to dock in a port immediately!"

"Order the latter first," he ordered quickly. "We ain't gonna have all ships armed in an hour. Ah'll send the message ta the Admiral."

"Yes, sir!" the general saluted and was on his way again. The man turned to the whimpering country by his side.

"Did that calm ya?" he asked dryly. "She sent the message, didn't she?" America lifted his head and gave him a watery smile.

"You didn't even ask for proper authorization! How do you know it wasn't Germany that ordered that!" England burst out. "It could have been anyone!"

"That was one of Cali's generals!" Texas snapped. "They're trained ta recognize her symbol!"

"We are in a war, you nit! You have to be careful! You don't even know if that blasted sister of yours is planning to ally with the Axis!"

"Shut up!" the ragged state roared, seizing a chair next to him and lifting it much higher than England could possibly have.

"Texas!"

England had only a minute glance at the angry state before the chair crashed down and the Texan was thrown roughly into the wall behind him. He heard a crunch at the impact and prayed that it wasn't several of the state's bones breaking. The sight of seeing broken limbs would be enough to have him hurl.

"Get ahold of yourself!" he suddenly found America at his side, his red eyes and tears gone from his face. The Yankee wrapped a strong arm around his waist, drawing him closer. England immediately tried to slip away from his body, but stopped when he saw the Texan slowly stand up amidst the rubble.

"How dare you speak as if we don't care? How _dare_ you speak about her like that?" Though he was shorter than America, his expression was clearly the frightening aspect. England glanced up only once, before directing his gaze to the wall behind his head as he stepped forward. He felt America's hand tighten protectively and looked up at his brother's face, surprised to see his blue orbs flaming with anger.

"Texas, I had the liberty of ordering my men to have a ship made ready for you. They will take you to Germany, where you will get your sister and then return here," America said evenly.

"Because you have to stay with him?" the red-eyed man barked. His normal, sky blue eyes had changed, as well as his personality. Every word he spoke was laced with malice. "Because he's more important than your _right-hand_?"

"Oh dear, he finally lost it," England tried to joke shakily, but he felt fingers at his lips and then America put a crushing force on his mouth, preventing him from speaking.

"Do I have to call your counterpart out and hurt you?" he asked coldly. For a brief instant, the country's eyes flickered from blue to red then back to blue. Texas—or whatever monstrosity he had become—let out a hiss and took a step back.

"Just try," he launched another chair at them, but this attempt was feeble as it fell short of its intended target. He swiftly left the room, the door slamming and then falling off its hinges. There was silence, the dust settled after being blown up by the falling door.

"Sorry about that, Artie," America lowered his arm and gave him a bright smile. "He's usually not so out of place. Though I do admit it was time for one of his infamous outbursts."

"W-what was that?" he sputtered. "J-just what was _that_?"

"Tex being a moron." And why was America still giving him that careless smile? England had always known the cowboy to be laidback and relaxed with the occasional bursts of western stubbornness. This was the first time he saw the state have such an explosive temper.

"Hey, don't worry," he looked up in disbelief as America put a hand on his shoulder. "Everything's going to be fine. You think Germany could stand up to that?"

"No," England forced himself to smile and shake his head. "No, the Kraut probably can't."

And for the first time, he was glad he wasn't at war with America.

* * *

"Miss. Jones! A submarine has emerged on the starboard side!"

There was immediate response on the deck as sailors hurriedly shoved themselves out of the way as the state advanced from below deck.

"Turn the ship into her!" she shouted as she made her way up the steps. "We're bigger and carrying heavier cargo. Hard and fast!"

"But they'll board us, Miss. Jones!" the captain was running by her side, wringing his hands.

"Which is why I said 'hard and fast', Captain," she turned faced him, her head held high. He shrunk under her authority and nodded quickly. "I have no intention of giving this ship up to the Germans or Italians. This ship will make it to Britain or return back to America. There is no other choice. And I would hold onto something sturdy."

The Captain had barely registered her words before a resounding crack filled his ears and a huge jolt caused him to fall to his knees. Looking up, he noticed the state didn't fall, or even show an ounce of surprise at the impact. Instead, she continued her march to the starboard deck.

"They're coming aboard!" someone shouted as he struggled to his feet. A shot rang out and he thought he heard someone fall to the ground. And then there was the bone-chilling laughter.

"Aye Avast, you American Yanks!" he gulped down a shudder and leaned up against one of the supporting beams, gathering his wits about him.

It wasn't Germans, it was _pirates_. Anybody else would scoff at this notion, but not him. No. Not he. He had been in the Navy for too long to know. There _were_ pirates—_modern_ _day_ pirates.

"I demand you all surrender yer weapons and every keg of beer on this here ship!"

But did pirates really want _just_ weapons and beer from an American ship?

"—and all yer women!"

Ah. There was that final demand.

There was another gunshot, this one louder than the other. A man screamed in pain and fell overboard; the splash wasn't heard over the leader's shouting.

"If anybody else shoots! I'll kill yer Captain and burn you all alive in yer ship! Now give me every keg of beer and ammunition—"

Another one of the invading party let out a loud scream, followed quickly by the leader's grunt. Someone had thrown a large metal object at the submarine. He started running, knowing exactly who had the power to knock out two men at once in a single throw.

He saw the state first—she was crouching on the deck, her back to him. She had her hands palm up on the deck, he repressed a cry when he realized the red liquid dripping off her hands was blood—though not her own.

"Who threw that? You bastard!" The loud voice came from a pale man with white hair. His hand was covering his eyes, apparently the state had aimed higher than he had expected. "You could have taken out one of my eyes!"

Once again, the captain had to repress a cry of shock as the man removed his hand and opened his eyes. He would have thought the white hair was enough of a fright, but no—the leader had bright red eyes.

Eyes the same color as the blood spilling off her hands.

And if his deductions were correct, the state had thrown an oxygentank at him _head-on_. There was no way he would still be conscious. She had hit two men, the first on the ground passed out—maybe dead from trauma—and the second leaning against the rail, rubbing his eye after getting smashed with the metal canister.

He took a large gulp of air as the realization hit him.

There was a "country" here.

* * *

"Mr. Jones."

"What is it?" he turned his head, maybe a bit _too_ quickly for the messenger to take. He watched the man freeze with his mouth open. Then again, it might have been the tone in his voice. It was quite a bit smoother than it should have been, bordering on the serial killer's voice.

"Its—we're—your ship is ready, sir," the messenger saluted him, his hand shaking on his forehead. He stood up slowly, looking down at the man—no—boy in front of him.

"Why did you sign up for the Navy, boy?" he asked, amusing himself as he watched the boy's eyes widen in fear.

"B-because I-I wanted to serve m-my country. And y-you, sir," the boy stuttered, his face paling as he looked up at the man.

"That's a good thought." But his smile was anything but reassuring or grateful.

It was enough to have the boy drop his hand and shake on the spot as his eyes followed the man's movements away from his dark corner.

"Don't wet yourself." He dropped a hand on his shoulder, the smile still affixed on his face as he passed.


	4. Chapter 4

California crouched on the deck, motionless as she watched Prussia groan and rub his bruised eye. She hoped she had put enough power in her throw to give him a black eye. She already knew she wouldn't walk away from a fight with Prussia uninjured. Years and years of battles had given him a severe advantage over her.

She was strong, yes, but not enough to be able to even hope to stop a world power—even if he was considered a former power.

She heard the Captain behind her shift in his step. He was not one of her people—he had a chance of being spared from Prussia's wrath if he separated her from America. _If _he saw her as someone completely different from America.

Not that it mattered anymore. His attacking party had already injured people on the ship already. There was no chance any of the people on the ship could defeat a powerful nation. They were frightened of _her_, for an example. The blood on her hands was just a reminder of the severity of their injuries.

"That _hurt_, you little witch!" the once-powerful nation bellowed when he noticed her crouching in the shadows. He fired at her—not once, but twice, and smiled in satisfaction when he heard her shriek. He always prized himself at being a master shooter, even better than West.

"You must be one of that bastard's bothersome children. The older one probably," he walked forward and seized her by the hair, taking advantage of her moment of pain. "I remember I helped you out in that Revolution of his against England. Those were the good old days."

"I've…never met you before," she whispered, looking at his feet. "I'm with Spain."

"You must have been one of those rebels he was fighting against then, because I don't remember any child with him after that." He lifted her up to his eye level, his grin becoming broader as her whimpers became louder as he pulled her up.

"I like how West conquered the other nations for me. He's a wonderful brother. All we have to do now is take down America—then my world domination will be complete."

"In your wildest fantasies!" she surprised him with a swift kick to the stomach and a powerful frontal face smash with her hand. He dropped her in shock and she lashed out at him again, struggling her way out of his grasp. She gritted her teeth and scrambled up, pain lacing up her arm.

The nation had shot at her so quickly she was barely able to dodge the first bullet. The second came too quickly—he was quite the knowledgeable marksman to be shooting at a moving target.

This was the first time someone other than her brother had landed a hit on her. She had fought so many times with Texas she'd forgotten how many times she was injured. She could forget the pain after she healed, but the next shot would cause that old wounds to fester up even more.

She bit her lip when the large nation came after her, his shoe finding her leg and crushing it. It didn't hurt as much as she thought it would—no broken bones.

"I don't remember Spain taking a girl in," the albino frowned when he flipped her over. "You must've been lying. You have to be one of America's, you liar!"

The next blow caught her in the stomach, tossing her brutally against one of the large shipping boxes on the top deck. She bit back another scream and struggled to stop the tears from leaving her eyes.

Not for the first time, she wondered why she decided to leave the safety of her home. Why did she leave America's protection? Of course, she prepared for an attack from another nation, but did she really think it was going to be _Prussia_? The country that was _supposed_ to be occupied with Russia?

For one thing, she knew from England that Italy was in Africa. China was having problems with Japan in the East. And Germany was seemingly at his own house, struggling to take care of his own vast empire and going in after Italy to save him from time to time. None of the Axis should have been monitoring the seas.

Yes, maybe Spain had something to do with Prussia going out on open waters. But Spain also had something to do with sending some of his people to fight alongside the Allies. Spain himself would be currently split between the two opponents.

"You're really boring, you know that?" she glared at Prussia's boots, crouching down low enough so the sun didn't blind her when she attacked. "You don't scream when you get hit, no tears when you get hurt. You're worse than Hungary. I can't believe I stopped fighting Russia just to find no amusement in hurting you."

He lunged at her again, but she skittered out of the way, keeping her eyes at his feet.

"And I can't kill you." she froze and looked up at him.

Nations hardly ever spoke about killing one another, even during war times. During battles it was all about beating the other side, not killing. There was too much effort into killing a country.

"And there's just no reason for me to just leave you alive," he reached and seized her injured arm, twisting it as he pulled her up again. "If I keep you it's not going to harm America one bit. I kill you, nothing will happen to that country at all. You're practically useless."

She narrowed her eyes and rammed her fist into his arm several times in succession. It annoyed her to see the nation still standing and smiling at her. Of course she knew there was nothing for a nation to gain or lose if they ran into her. But it didn't mean that a nation make it seem like she was _completely_ useless.

There was a loud buzzing noise above them—something she couldn't recognize. Prussia dropped her arm and looked up at the sky.

"When did you get time to call your Air Force!" he shouted, grabbing her collar and yanking her up to his face. "When did you get any time to call anybody?" He tossed her against the wall again, not even grinning when he heard the crunch of metal behind him.

California sat up, following the nation's gaze to the sky. She could see four planes flying high in the air. She didn't recognize them at all. Alaska made sure before she brought any of her planes into action, that her siblings recognized her crafts.

She glanced around hurriedly for any sign of the Captain. She caught sight of his cap on top of an oil drum farther back and got up to check.

"Captain." He was crouched behind another shipping box, far out of sight from the German sailors. "Whose planes are they?"

"I believe they're planes for the Allies, but I don't know for which country," he shrugged helplessly. "And I think they're going to drop the bombs regardless of our flag on the ship because of the German submarine at our side."

"Captain, when the submarine submerges, I want to you to order the ship into port in Britain—if that's the closest port. I don't care if I'm even on the ship when the sub goes underwater."

"Miss. Jones surely you're being unreasonable," he looked at her. "I'm sure the pilots have better hands at their controls and will try to leave our ship unscathed."

"Their bombs cannot kill a nation," she scowled. "Even if it hits me, it will only cause pain—nothing I can't deal with. There is no need to worry about me. The nation cannot expect to kill me without an invasion to the West Coast."

"They're dropping, Miss. Jones."

"If you take on any unneeded injuries because you tried to go after me, your home state will feel that pain rippling through them," she narrowed her eyes and closed the distance between their faces.

She'd meant to frighten the Captain into actually doing something without any negative thoughts entering his mind. It pleased her greatly when she saw the man lower his head quickly and slip away to warn the remaining crew.

It wasn't that she liked to exert all of her power over some of America's people—she didn't. In fact, she'd prefer if she didn't have to deal with many at all, her boss would be the only exception. She preferred to use her power as a larger and important state over the lesser states under America. It felt so much better doing things like that. It just sounded abusive the other way around.

She was just hurrying back to provide a diversion for Prussia when she tripped over the albino's foot and fell hard. A second later, he yanked her arms behind her and put her into a very painful and effective headlock.

"It's admirable what everyone tries to save their own people when they see the end," Prussia laughed. "I remember France sent the majority of his soldiers to the coast to be rescued by Eyebrows across the Channel."

"And they succeeded," she spat, kicking her legs in an attempt to strike him. "You couldn't do anything, just watch them sail away."

"Good thing I have you as the prize then," he chuckled and lowered his head to whisper into her ear. "Don't you think America will realize the gravity of this situation if one of his prized states is missing? He'll be more likely to agree to our terms if I take you prisoner."

"Hah! That's what you say!" she laughed. "America is far smarter than you—"

"America's an idiot. _I _fought with him against England, and trust me he was _a lot_ smarter then than he is now. Seems like everyone's getting stupider as they age, Eyebrows is a good example."

"The other states will never let America bend to your will," she retorted. "I'm not the only one that he actually speaks to." Prussia raised his gun and cracked it over her head. He watched with pleasure as her eyes rolled back and her head fell back. All the tension in her body was released and she fell on her side.

"You're worse than West. I keep telling him he's turning into an old lady—arguing with me so much—and look what I have here now! But Spain's going to kill me…I think I hit her too hard…"


	5. Chapter 5

**I was wondering why I had to people arguing about how women_ did _have rights during the second world war. I am aware of that (two years of U.S. History can do that to you). I just recently looked over my first chapter and noticed what they (and possibly more) were complaining about.**

**There is a little section about America and his boss agreeing that no women should fight in the war. I wrote that, thinking that everyone would understand that it was refering to all of the female states. And I didn't elaborate on that statement either, causing some to think I wrongly choose this time period to place this story.**

**I apologize for my lack of descriptions that caused others to become angry at me.**

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

"Oi, Tomato-Bastard!" Ignoring the fact that the said 'tomato-bastard' was speaking on the phone with his boss, Romano stood in front of him, his arms on his hips as he shouted.

"Just a minute, Romano~" the smiling country held up his finger. "This will only take a few moments longer."

"Did you just tell me that woman's coming to play one of your perverted games? I bet France is going to coming over and he told you to use that as a cover. You idiot!"

With that outburst, he turned heel and stomped away from the telephone, only to have his temper rise when he realized Spain wasn't chasing after him. Worse yet, after he hung up the phone, it started ringing again.

"Hello? Oh, it's nice to hear from you again Germany!"

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Potato Bastard! I hope he captures that woman and takes her country away. Then they'll be even."

"Eh? Prussia has one of my colonies prisoner after a battle over the Atlantic?" Romano froze when he heard Spain's surprised question.

He slowly closed his fist and raised it above his head in triumph. Finally! That stupid woman _finally_ got what she deserved! All those years she had terrorized him in Spain's house had paid off.

"Yes of course." He could barely hear the Spaniard over his own exuberant thoughts as he jumped up and down in the hallway. "I'll be glad to do that. No, I don't think Romano minds. He's dancing in the hallway now."

He remembered when Spain the Conquistador brought her home, adding her to his growing number of colonies under his rule. There was no physical threat to him while he was with her. She was smaller than the rest of the colonies—she had no future as a nation.

Micro-nations and states required special care from an older nation in order to survive. But a brand-new nation, one newly created, needed almost complete attention to prevent their new government from crashing down.

That was why the state/region (whatever she actually was) was left in his care while Spain tended to his other troublesome colonies. She and that arrogant brother of hers. He wasn't imagining it when the baby state started up a fuss whenever she was left with him. No matter what he tried, he could not get her to calm down.

She was such an annoying menace to his sanity. And the damned tomato bastard kept smiling and playing with her like she was a normal human child. He vaguely wondered if Russia as a child had ever acted like this to Ukraine, enough to have her separate from him in the future.

Then, despite the fact he now lived in his own house and only traveled back and forth occasionally to Spain's house, she still found ways to antagonize him. The sweet, innocent, little toddler the rest of the nations saw was a menace to him. Toys scattered all over the floor gave his feet the perfect opportunity to trip over them. At meal times, it was no different; giving her a fork was not the best case scenario in his mind.

But Spain had refused to give her up. Give her up, the only other thing holding back one of the larger colonies from rebelling? Of course it made sense in the idiot's mind.

And after all these years away from that menace, Romano still believed her to be a counterpart of Russia (or perhaps France). Never mind he hadn't seen her since the rebellion, he had no idea what she looked like now.

Probably looked identical to the stupid American, maybe.

"Romano~" he looked up to see the Spaniard bouncing in his general direction, a smile plastered on his face. "Germany called~. Prussia took your younger sister prisoner and he doesn't know what do to with her."

So?" Spain's shoulders slumped when he heard his charge's flat, uncaring voice.

"So I offered to take her from him," he smiled easier now, even daring to reach out and take one of his hands in his own.

Romano choked on his own spit. Spain was going to _save_ her from her imminent execution the potato bastard had set up? _That_ was not all right in his book.

"Why do you hate your little sister, Romano?"

"B-because she's _evil_, stupid!" There! He said it. So why was Spain still giving him that amused look?

"Evil? A little girl like that?" He started giggling. "You look like a tomato, Romano!"

The Italian puffed his cheeks, causing the redness to expand past his neck. _Why_ was he so hard to communicate with? France and _Prussia_ decided to ally with him in _wars_? He deduced that they were just as crazy as Spain was in the first place.

"Do you know what she and her other brothers and sisters want the most?" Now it was time for the blood to rush out of his face. Spain laughing at him (or himself) was really no problem to him. But had he suddenly gone insane after talking to the potato-bastard? No person in their right mind would laugh with such growing cruelty. And that included Russia. Even that snowman's laughter would not be so clearly dangerous.

"What?" he asked as he narrowed his eyes. He was facing Spain the Conquerer—the Conquisidor—the strongest nation in the world. The change had never been so noticeable until now.

"She just wants to be a nation, like you and me."

"Huh?" he was expecting something more extragavent, something along the likes of 'World Domination' or 'Conquering Italy'. Being a nation was such a petty thing, and she _wanted_ that?

"You _can't_ be afraid of her and you _can't _hate her! She's just some weak plot of land America looks after. Look, even Prussia defeated her!" His jaw dropped somewhat. It was _Prussia_ that defeated Austria thousands of times (and then got knocked out by Hungary), it was _Prussia_ that allied with Spain and France to defeat England (and Austria). Maybe this clearly pointed that that Prussia was _strong_?!

"Maybe I was making that up," that lazy smile started crawling back on the Spainards face. "México spoiled her. She hasn't been in any wars except the one with him. America spoils her. No wars. Maybe she turned into a country girl and relies on her brother now."

Romano opened his mouth to say something, but was distracted by the sounds of a car at Spain's front door. Hardly anybody came up to Spain's villa, so that meant…

…She was here…

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

California stood quietly in front of Spain's villa looking at the tomato vines growing up one of the wooden posts against the window. She felt weary—not because the day felt long to her—but because she felt tired of listening to her inner voice over and over again.

That inner voice shouted at her when Prussia first attacked. It chastized her first for leaving America's protection. Then it argued with her about her tactics.

It _wanted_ her to destroy Prussis with her bare hands. Never mind the people lying around her when the firing started. She ignored the voice both times.

The next time it spoke it her was when she woke up in Germany's house. Again, she ignored the voice when it told her to run when Germany turned his back.

She didn't fight back because she could tell the German was going out of his way to treat her nicely. He cleaned and bandaged her wounds without saying a word against her. When she asked, he just shook his head. She took his silence as way of showing his lack of English.

But then after he gave her food and let her rest some more, he came to her again. After some struggling, he asked where she had come from.

"America," she responded dully, wondering if Prussia had filled his brother in with the details before he dumped her. He surprised her by shaking his head vigorously. "Spain?"

And with that, he called Spain and the two arranged transportation for her to make it to the country. That led up with her standing in front of the large, countryside villa outside of town in one of Germany's rather uncomfortable military uniforms.

Of course, that meant Spain was truly part of the Axis if she was given up so easily. It was that voice again that was nagging for her to run for it and get on one of the ships and escape. But then again, her mind wasn't working clearly, so why not visit Spain? It was the only reason she left the country anyway.

"_¡Hola! _California!" her ex-country ran down the steps, his arms open wide in greeting. "You did not bring _Tejas_?"

"Busy," she answered automatically and winced at her blunt answer. She felt guilty for leaving her brother alone like that. If Germany went out of his way to be nice to her, Texas went out of his way making sure she survived as a state. When he heard she was making a trip to visit America, he met her along the way and traveled with her all the way up to Washington.

"No matter! You had something to say to me?" he took her hand and led her up the stairs.

"_Sí_."

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

Romano watched as Spain gave her a seat across from him. They were seated at the round table right outside of Spain's sitting room. So while Spain ran off to bring some drinks, he was left with nothing to do but stare at her and attempt to strike up a conversation.

"Do you like tomatoes?" he asked bluntly. There was a pause as she gave him a strange look (why did that look, look so familiar to him?) before answering.

"I exported them to Spain."

"What was your name again?" He had a feeling this conversation could possibly go down as one of the worst in history. He was still trying to place where that look she was giving him came from. He recognized it. So which hateful nation had given him that look before?

"Republic of California," she was still giving him that look. That look spelled out her worry for his mental help. "Of the United States of America."

"Do you like potatoes?"

"Not particularly. My sister does though. And America's German population."

Ah! So that's where that look came from! Germany! The potato-bastard! Now he was mad. He hated anybody with relation to the potato-bastard, as well as anybody who stood with him for long periods of time. Now his hatred was moved to hating those that copied his facial expressions and used them on him.

"You're friends with the bastard?!" he asked rather loudly.

"Not friends," she frowned. "In previous years, my brothers and sisters were looking for ways to get rid of his people. Many moved out of the country." Before he could think of a silly retort to make her seem like an enemy in his mind, Spain re-entered the room, holding a tray of cups.

"What did you want to talk about?" he gave her such a dazzling and oblivious smile that France would immediately swoon over had he gotten the chance.

"America won't let me fight. He says it's because I'm a woman," she looked away from him, centering her gaze, once more, on the tomato plants struggling to climb the posts around them.

"So join England, or any other country that does. I hear normal woman are allowed on the battlefields now," he shrugged. Romano was surprised the Spaniard managed to sound intellectual for once. This was the first time he ever bothered to speak about the other nation's people. He wasn't even sure he was aware of world politics (he _had_ been stuck in a civil war for a while, though).

She made a face at this suggestion but continued to keep an eye on the growth of the green vines. "I know it's a big step for the _normal_ women. I do feel the excitement of my people and I do not disregard America's decision to allow them this one chance. But I lived under _your_ house, when you were a world power. I do know war and how to rally my troops."

"Then shame on America for thinking less," the beaming nation was back. "If you were to come back to me, I'm sure we could work something—" she gave him a cold glare which he responded with his sunny smile.

"You lost to us not only once, but _twice_," she hissed. "Once with Mexico, the other with America (1). That is quite clearly, an incentive _not_ to join you."

"Then why do you keep coming to me?" he propped his head up with his elbows, pleased at her surprise and annoyance at catching her off-guard. "Russia would take that as an incentive that you_ want _to become part of the Spanish Empire once more."

"America had better watch out," he wagged a finger in her general direction. "Do you think that after all these years I don't see potential in owning you two anymore? And I heard that there are little ones too—from what Mexico says, that is."

"America won't let you on his land," she looked directly at him this time. "Not after that war we had."

"Do you really expect _America_ to give you the country if something happens to him?" he changed the subject, trying to find another weak spot to poke at. "I hear rumors after all."

"That's…" she frowned. He watched as her eyes went down to her fingers on the table.

"He won't even let you fight and he would let you become a nation as a last resort? Did I raise you to be so gullible?" the state frowned, her fingers clenching into a fist next to her cup.

"You're…still angry about the war…" she muttered.

"Well, I was angry with Mexico when he took you two," he carefully plucked a tomato from the dish in the center plate. "I would be angry too when America took the rest of my colonies, especially the Philippines. And then he got us into something he likes to call the 'Great Depression'! My number (2) went all the way to the negatives!"

"America didn't start the Great Depression. New York did (3)," she retorted.

"I don't like America," he leaned back in his seat, toying with the tomato. "He and England destroyed my Armada. I lost my position as a world power. I lost my American colonies after Mexico fought for independence. And then _America_ jumped to conclusions after his battleship blew up (1) and started _another _war in which my Armada was destroyed _again. _And then because of his horrid economy I had a civil war on my hands. So now I have to help out Germany because I owe so much money to him."

"Are you done with your complaints?" she asked crossly, running a hand across her forehead. "If America let's me take his place, you're just going to end up hating me too."

"Or I could just come invade when the American knocks you down. Seeing as you're a threat to his power and all. You're much better under my rule. _Tejas_, too."

"Enough."

They both looked up at the sound of the new voice. California's face fell when she saw her brother step around the precious tomato plants and onto Spain's patio. Spain returned to his smiley, happy, bubbly personality at the entrance of his former colony.

"How long have you been there?" she asked uncertainly. The Texan gave her a cold look, promising to scold her himself on the way back to the states.

"Enough, ta hear Spain complainin' an' ya whinin'," he glanced at Spain. "Ah can't believe ya went all this way jus' to talk 'bout this."

"Still have your accent, I see," Spain looked up at him fearlessly despite the fact the state was giving him a rather murderous look. "I would have thought America would have taken that away."

"Why did you—"

"'Merica asked me ta," his eyes flicked back to her, causing her to flinch slightly. "He also asked me ta pick up some clothes for ya. Somethin' 'bout Prussia takin' yer clothes." He glanced at her 'borrowed' clothes from Germany with distaste and tossed her a package he had been carrying under his arm.

"A _dress_?" she lifted the article of clothing with two fingers, her eyebrows furrowing. "I'm a—"

"If Ah hear one word 'bout how yer an independent woman, Ah'll have second thoughts 'bout ever givin' ya clothes and take 'em back. It's the cheapest thing Ah could afford." he growled. "An' remember ta call 'merica. He wants ta hear from ya immediately."

She scowled, but stood up anyway, flinging the dress over her shoulder and stomping away, her nose up in the air.

"Still giving your sister orders, _Tejas_? She hasn't fought back yet?"

"She ain't gonna fight back if she knows it's her fault."

"Why did America name her his heir?"

"_Successor_," he corrected. "'Cause she's close ta bein' self-sufficient."

"Won't you come back to me, _Tejas_?" the question was not said in a pleading tone.

"No. Ah've been tryin' ta ferget yer language since Ah left Mexico. It won' work if Ah'm going ta live under yer house again."

"California's so pretty," he sunk into his normal, perverted, dreamy look. "I'm sure she won't mind living with me."

"She's not a servant," he reminded him coldly. "Mexico treated her like that up until she broke away from him. Ah won' let ya touch her." There was a possessive edge in his voice.

There was silence as the two glared at one another (with Spain's glare bordering both an amused and scandalized look). In the house, they could hear California's soft murmuring and America's loud, frightened voice coming out of the earpiece. Spain slowly twirled the tomato in his hands, his mouth twisting along with it.

"You were a nation once, weren't you, _Tejas_?" a small and slow nod answered his question. "So you know what it's like to take over another's land. You become attached to that nation when it comes time for them to leave."

"Ah have never taken over another's land," he disagreed. "There was only California an' Ah after Mexico."

"Ah. You love your sister, then?" he looked up from the tomato and gave him a smirk that did not fit on his country bumpkin face. He watched in amusement as his former colony's expression turned from embarrassed to absolute rage.

"_That_, is none of yer business!" he hissed. "An' _if_ ah hear ya even so much as _touched_ California, Ah'll personally come over here and—"

"And none so far has happened."

Soft padding across the stone floor (4) announced California's arrival. The female state stepped out of the home and looked back and forth between the two of them. Despite the fact her brother had bought the largest size available for women in the Midwest, she still managed to make his purchase look small. Her feet were bare, as she refused to wear Germany's boots along with her new clothing.

"Ready?" he asked, quietly. She had a quick glance at Spain before turning back to him, nodding once.

"It's been good ta see ya, _pops_," he said sarcastically as he wrapped an arm around his sister's broad shoulders and started leading her out the way he came.

"_Adiós, papá_," California turned her head back as she said her farewell. Once Spain was sure the two were out of hearing range (and on their way to a ship or plane, hopefully), he let out a long sigh and laughed, lowering the tomato to his mouth and biting into it like an apple.

"See, she isn't so bad, Romano. I don't know what you were whining about."

Romano, who had been silent the entire time (for once), looked up at Spain and snapped, "You just brought her over here just to tell her all of that, stupid?"

- o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o - o.o -

**(1) Spanish-American war. Started after the Battleship _Maine_ blew up off the coast of Cuba. Americans automatically believed it was an attack (later proved to be an accident). Ended in America's victory. Spain lost Guam, Puerto Rico, and Cuba. The US gave Spain money to pay for the Philippines.**

**(2) GDP (Gross Domestic Product)—see "Lithuania's Outsourcing Series"**

**(3) Referring to the fact that Wall Street is located in New York and the center for "Black Tuesday".**

**(4) I'm not quite as updated as I would like on modern (or traditional) Spanish architecture. Do they still use stone or was it bricks (or is it even wood?).**


	6. Chapter 6

"There's a _reason_ why ya don't jus' get up an' visit Spain, of all people." The former nation's back was to her as he spoke. There was no response from the female state, "Cali, are ya even listenin'—" he turned around and stopped when he noticed his sister staring out one of the portholes in their cabin.

"Did you know, _Tejas_—"

"Don't call me by that name," he interrupted coldly, dropping his accent completely. She didn't even give him a nod of acknowledgement at this order.

"—that many of my people are going to fight in the war? They really want to fight against Japan and all…but they've agreed to defeat Germany first. Strange isn't it?"

"Not really," he mumbled, knowing she wouldn't be listening to his side commentary.

"I can hear their voices," she raised her hands slowly and cupped them against her ear, blocking out the outside noises. "I never knew I had so many people."

Her brother rolled his eyes in exasperation. It wasn't the first time during this trip he realized his sister was starting to tire. He doubted she had much sleep after she was captured by Germany. Passing out because of blood loss was only a temporary and ineffective measure. She had been unnaturally silent all the way to the docks, and upon stepping onto the ship, she started babbling incoherently about their fellow brothers and sisters. He had heard his own name appear in that babble once or twice.

"Were you surprised when you realized how many people you had, Brother?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, rambled on. "I bet Father was. We know by numbers that our bosses receive, but we never actually feel them all at once until something like this happens. It's an interesting feeling."

"Go—ta—sleep," he moved quickly to her bed and sat down on the edge, his hand roughly grabbing her shoulder and throwing her back. "Can't stand anymore of yer inconsistent chatter."

"I'm not that tired. I'll sleep when we get home," she seized his hand and pushed it off her shoulder. "You don't have to worry about me, Brother." Texas raised an eyebrow as she finished. This had been the second time she had spoken formally to him—completely out of character for his tomboy sister.

"You. Are. Pathetic," he pronounced each word slowly and clearly, drawing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her up against him. He settled his chin on top of her head, a position he had taken when they were both younger under Mexico's rule.

She made a noise of agreement and leaned into his embrace. There was silence in the cabin as she slowly started drifting off to sleep aided by her brother slowly and gently rubbing circles on her back with his hand.

"A real pain, Cali," he sighed, his other hand tousling her hair slightly. "A real pain."

* * *

She was wound up in America's arms, and had been like that ever since she stepped off the boat. He had mumbled something about "sending everyone over to destroy Berlin", but that was lost when she greeted him with a hug and soft, "I'm sorry."

"Don't ever do that again," he whimpered, trying his best to stop his emotional side from taking over completely.

"That's fine," she smiled slightly and patted his shoulders gently, feeling his overpowering strength pressing painfully on her wound.

"Let 'er go, America. She's hurtin'," her brother grumbled, reaching out and tapping the blonde roughly on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Texas, but I'm so happy—"

"Happy that Germany saved 'er from Prussa?" America kissed the Californian on her forehead before stepping back.

"I'm at war with him, remember? I'm just happy that you were able to bring her back from Spain," he smiled broadly, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

"Stop treatin' me like a saint an' go find yer boss. Ah can't do anythin' without his permission. Yes, we declared war, but the troops haven't been deployed yet. Do somethin' 'bout that one before Ah get bored an' make Ginny take over. She's been lookin' at my position for awhile."

"Yes, we cannot let the Axis win!" he agreed. "Cali, get your fleet ready!"

"You're letting me fight?" she asked in surprise. "But I thought—"

"Your brother asked my permission for you to fight. Your boss argued with me for a bit as well. He doesn't really trust you staying home," America waved at them both and left the room, his obnoxious laughter echoing down the hall.

"Before ya say anythin', Ah didn't speak with him," Texas spoke when his sister turned around and opened her mouth, the new question on her lips.

"Who was it?" she asked, changing her question in mid breath.

"Don't know," he shrugged. "Someone America looks at fondly, Ah guess. Don't really care, either. Someone thinks too highly of ya. Ah wouldn't trust ya with my navy." At light of this insult, his sister stuck her tongue out and punched his arm.

More out of instinct than anger, he punched her back—landing a blow on the side of her face, sending her reeling backwards. He realized too late what he had done. Before he could utter an apology, California lunged at him. The back of his head hit the chair behind him as he went down.

He couldn't even feel the powerful blows his sister was inflicting, concentrating solely on staying awake and not passing out from hitting the chair. After several moments of rapid blinking and silent groaning, he focused back on her.

"Why did you hit me?" she shrieked, raising her fist for another strike. Texas reached up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her assault. To him, her body weight amounted to nothing as he flipped her off and smashed her against the floor. His hand quickly found her thin neck and curled around it, ignoring her body arching as her back hit the flooring painfully.

"Now, before ya try to hit me again, Ah apologize for hittin' ya," he frowned down at her. It didn't surprise him when she continued to glare at him, her left arm finding a death grip on his shoulder. "But Ah don't apologize for what Ah said."

"Why?" she croaked. It was a struggle for her to mouth out that simple word with her brother's hand blocking her windpipe.

"Ah haven't seen ya prove ta me that ya deserve ta be treated different," he scowled. "Ya can't take care of the ranch if ya even tried. Despite Mexico forcin' yer people ta farm, ya still don't do a good job. No wonder he noticed an' tried ta take advantage of yer gender. Spain noticed too."

He had loosened his grip on her throat as he felt sudden jerking movements under his hand. He thought she was in convulsions from the blow her back had taken just from short gasps coming from her mouth. It surprised him when he saw tears beginning to appear in her eyes.

"All right, all right," he sighed, cradling her against his chest. "Ah'm sorry for bringing up Spain."

"Do you really think he was telling the truth?" she asked, hiccupping slightly as she struggled to get her breath back, brushing the tears out of her impatiently. "About how America will betray me?"

"America will think twice before crossin' me," he disagreed, narrowing his eyes at the wall above her head. "Ah' won't let 'im get away with somethin' like that. Don't worry 'bout Spain. He had a grudge 'gainst America since we were under his house."

"Oh," her voice became softer as the realization sunk in. "I forgot."

"S'all right," he rubbed her back in what he assumed was soothing to her. "Ah don't remember much of that either."

There was a small amount of rapping on the door. Texas glanced up at the door, then back down at his sister. Much to his annoyance, the person knocking creaked open the door by themselves.

"Ya could have waited fer a response, Ginny," he grumbled as their elder (adopted) sister walked over to them.

"You wouldn't have let me in," she stopped in front of them, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "I'm a bit surprised to see you both here. I would have thought you would be halfway across the country by now instead of messing around in here."

"Messing around?" California asked in a rather high-pitched voice. Texas narrowed his eyes at her. Virginia ignored her, directing her next question at him alone.

"I thought you were supposed to be chivalrous," she raised her head and looked down at him. "That's what you said to me years ago."

"It's a bit different when it's about Cali," he shrugged. "An' if Ah have this correct, ya don' even think she's a woman anyhow, Ginny."

"True," she glanced down at California in disdain. "Nevada's looking for you. Apparently Arizona woke up right after you left and was wondering where you were."

"I'll go see him then," she stood up and started walking away.

"_We'll_ go see him," Texas corrected, grabbing her wrist and pulling himself up. "New Mex's been worried sick 'bout him, kept callin' me. The captain was getting' tired of hearing his "

Virginia watched as they walked away, her frown becoming more noticeable on her face. They were halfway down the hall before she opened her mouth and spoke again.

"Texas, are you forgetting something?" she asked. Both states stopped and turned towards her. Texas patted his sister's shoulder and whispered something to her. Then she was nodded and left him alone, the heavy doors swinging shut behind her, echoing down the hallway.

"Fergetting what, Ginny?" he asked dryly after the echo died down.

"About our 'agreement'. You lost your temper at Father and his guest, and then you frightened a bunch of my people. I think it's time you—"

"No," she stopped in surprise, her hands frozen, palms up in the air.

"What?" she took a step forward, but hesitated and stepped back again. "What did you say?"

"Yah heard me,_ Virginia_," he scowled. "Ah won't give ya control of the Army. Don't _ever_ convince Cali that she needs ta go visit her _fatherly_ figure ta get permission ta fight, an' then stab her in the back by persuading America not ta let the female _Western_ states fight. Ah thought Florida was jokin' when he mentioned that."

"Florida?" she looked confused.

"Florida's our older brother," he reminded her icily and watched as she paled in sudden realization. Her knees buckled and she fell against the wall, staring at him, her mouth open in shock.

"Jus' so ya know," he turned and walked away, his heavy boots thudding loudly on the polished floors of the White House.

* * *

**I was incredibly tired when I finished this. It was meant to end on this note, as I'm still wondering how to bring out the next part. Yes, as a few reviewers noticed, it would have been one of the original 13 states that should have been America's second-in-command as well as head of Navy, Army, and Air Force. So naturally, quite a few of them are jealous of the special treatment. **


End file.
